


The Lament of Mortality

by absquatulatess



Series: To Be Human [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, Ilvermorny, MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Merle Dixon Being Merle Dixon, Merle Dixon Lives, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Road Trips, Sophia Peletier Lives, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absquatulatess/pseuds/absquatulatess
Summary: After being stabbed by Rick and left for dead on the Greene farm, Shane finds help from unlikely allies.
Series: To Be Human [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093961
Comments: 21
Kudos: 32





	1. In the Woods Somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before reading this, everything is canon except Daryl finding his brother's hand on that roof and Sophia being in Hershel's barn with the other walkers. They're both alive and well.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★⋆,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

 **(** _shane walsh_ **)**

**chapter one — IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE**

｡･:*:･ﾟ★⋆,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

**SEPTEMBER 22, 2010**

Stumbling away from the Greene farm and into the woods, Shane’s mind was hazy with pain from the wound in his side. The noise and commotion of the farm being swarmed by the herd drew everything dead away from his position.

Even with everything that had gone down, the logical part of his mind was noting blood loss for the haziness and stumbling. However, Shane had seen enough mental breakdowns as a deputy in Kings County to know that his fractured mind was a factor as well.

A stronger man would have killed himself, that was for sure. He shouldn't have aimed that gun— _an empty one at that_ —on his best friend. A stronger, better man wouldn’t have let himself fall into the darkness in the first place.

Shane was a killer now. He had fallen away from his oath to protect and serve, and uphold the law. He was still certain that Randall was a danger to all but Otis? He’d done everything in his power to correct his accidental wronging.

The worst part of the confrontation wasn’t even the few seconds of Rick’s hug and the cool blade sinking into his flesh… it was Carl finding them. The only thing left unscathed from the hurricane of mistakes Shane and Lori had unleashed. Now, Carl’s future was tainted by the blood on Rick’s hands.

A shot had gone off. He remembered flinching and thinking that was the end of his miserable existence before the smell and a heavyweight hit him.

 _How ironic_. The dead walker had kept the herd from noticing him and put pressure on his wound.

He was stumbling further into the woods and further away from the farm. In the distance, there was a clearing and Shane pushed his body to go faster. As he entered the clearing, Shane almost fell on his face. The blood from the wound is slick and it hurts like hell. He was still breathing, so the blade missed the heart and lungs. If it got his liver… well, he’d find out in the next few days if critical or not.

Rick should have aimed for his gut, but the other man was handier with a gun rather than a knife. If Rick had done that, Shane would be dead for good. Not stumbling aimlessly and wallowing in his thoughts.

There was a hunting cabin in the middle of the clearing and a hand pump stood in the yard with a bucket hanging off it. Shane let out a pained grunt as he neared the pump. He needed to stop here because the knife damaged something. He had two choices, either stop the bleeding or kill himself before he turned into one of the walkers. The latter was the most appealing.

He worked the hand pump, water falling into the bucket, despite the pain that blossomed ten times worse as he did so. With the bucket filled after a couple of pumps, Shane dumped it over his head.

Shane felt himself shiver as the cold water made contact with his body. The water washed away the blood and the walker grime off. He started to repeat motions of pumping to refill the bucket when the world was swept away from his feet and everything went dark.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★⋆,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Shane woke up to muttering voices. The pain from the wound had subsided and he was resting on what felt like a sleeping bag. Opening his eyes slowly, Shane could see the roof of whatever building he and the stranger are holed up in. If they gave him meds for the pain, they must be friendly.

“You’re awake.”

He turned his head to look at the source of the voice. It’s a woman in her early to mid-twenties with dark—almost pitch black—hair pulled back in a bun similar to what female deputies back in Kings County wore and piercing grey eyes that were looking directly at him. Her facial features were slim and straight, reminding him of a crow.

Shane wasn’t sure why his brain immediately jumped to compare her to a crow… perhaps it was the black hair or the silent steps she took to be closer to him. 

“How’s your head? You took quite a hard fall after losing so much blood.” She crouched down in front of him and continued, “I’m Lyra.”

“Shane,” he replied. “And my head feels fine.”

He wanted to scream at her and ask her why the hell she patched him up when she should have let him die where he dropped but he didn’t have any energy left in his body.

“Walsh, right?” He froze at how casually Lyra said his surname, but the woman ignored his reaction. “Sophia was the one to convince me to patch your sorry ass up. Something about you being a good man.”

There was a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision and Shane’s eyes snapped to the second figure in the cabin. Sophia Peletier was standing off to the side, perfectly healthy and alive despite so many back at the farm thinking otherwise.

Shane felt relief and regret, the latter winning as the little blonde waved at him with a small smile. He’d been so convinced of her death. A kid like her couldn’t have survived a night in the woods. At least now, she seemed to have grown a couple of inches in the last two weeks since her disappearance along with wearing sturdy clothing and shoes.

“Sophia…” Shane breathed out. He felt the need to cry at that moment but he pushed the feeling away and returned his gaze to Lyra, silently pleading for an explanation.

“I found her in the woods being chased down by one of the dead ones. I took her and ran after killing it.” Lyra gave Sophia a smile and continued, “She couldn’t remember what highway she ran away from. Sophia’s been with me and my group ever since while we looked for her momma.”

“You must be thirsty.” Sophie stepped up and passed him a sealed water bottle. Shane accepted it; he opened it and took three greedy gulps. Sophia’s lips quirked and she questioned him, “Mr. Walsh, what happened? We saw the herd of walkers and heard the gunshots… but you’ve been stabbed…”

Shane slowly put down the water bottle and tried to hide his grimace at hearing the question. Straight to it then.

At his silence, Lyra stood up and set a gentle hand on Sophia’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, he needs sleep _and_ you need sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Sophia glanced at the older woman and nodded.

Shane watched as Sophia retreated to a solitary corner in the hunting cabin and slipped into a sleeping bag. Shane’s attention went back to Lyra, who had sat down and stretched out her legs in front of her.

“Walsh, I’ve had a good sense of people's character and it has yet to fail me.” Her eyes were on a clock hanging on the wall next to Sophia rather than on Shane’s face, and then they darted back to him. “Don’t be the first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a lot of time looking over fanmade timelines before settling on my own idea of how long it's been in this apocalyptic world. I'll explain it further down the road but for now, it's been about 10 days since Sophia was separated from the group.
> 
> Thank you for reading--it's so, so appreciated!


	2. Not a Lie, Not the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane arrives at where Lyra and Sophia have been camping, and meets one more familiar face.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★⋆,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

 **(** _shane walsh_ **)**

**chapter two — NOT A LIE, NOT THE TRUTH**

｡･:*:･ﾟ★⋆,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

**SEPTEMBER 23, 2010**

They were driving along a fairly empty county road, heading west and further away from where the Greene’s farm was located. And in turn, further away from where Rick, Lori, and Carl were.

Lyra was driving and Sophia was sitting on the passenger seat, gazing out the window with her hazel eyes and a bored expression on her face. It left him sitting in the backseat with two crossbows—one eerily similar to Daryl Dixon’s and a smaller one that must’ve been Sophia’s with butterfly stickers all over it.

“You sure you don’t want to sleep? God knows you must've been walking miles before we found you passed out.” Shane shook his head no in response to Lyra and she glanced at Sophia. Nudging Sophia’s arm softly, Lyra told her, “Blondie, if you’re bored, I’m pretty sure Mallory stashed away that book you like so much underneath your seat.”

Sophia reached down and pulled out a book. The cover was a light blue-green and the black letters told Shane it was called _The Tales of Beedle the Bird_. After Lyra told her to read it out loud, the trio was no longer in silence as they drove down the dilapidated county roads.

After thirty minutes, Lyra pulled up to a caravan of vehicles. Shane could see RVs in far better condition than Dale’s ever was, three trucks with trailers attached, a humvee, and two smaller cars. On one of the RVs, there was a man and woman keeping watch over the area. There was a group of children gather around a girl who looked barely sixteen with chin-length black hair and was reading a book.

“Go ‘head, Blondie. Just don’t get out of Burt and Cindi’s view, yeah?”

Sophia eagerly nodded at Lyra’s words and opened the door, running towards where the children were with a happy shout in greeting.

“How many people are here?” Shane asked when five people came out of an RV followed by a large man.

“Around forty.” Lyra must have noticed his shocked expression because she shrugged with no shame. “I took my orders of gathering civilians very, very seriously.”

“You’re military?”

That was the only sound explanation for what she just said. If she was, that meant there might be a chance of other members of the military surviving and making do in the new world.

“Something like that…” Lyra trailed off and eyed the tall man who was approaching her car. Lyra exited and met him halfway. They spoke briefly and Lyra walked away from the car.

 _Could she be CIA?_ Shane asked himself. If any feds would survive this chaotic world, it would be the CIA. Another glance around the improvised camp and Shane came to the conclusion that if she was CIA and the people knew, they weren’t bothered by it. If Lori was here, she would most definitely be bothered by a former member of the CIA walking around willy nilly.

The tall man knocked on the window next to Shane and jerked his head, indicating he wanted them to follow.

“I’m Atlas,” the tall man introduced himself as they walked into the RV he’d been in earlier. Atlas motioned for Shane to sit down. “Lyra said you were stabbed but she patched you up alright. How’s the pain?”

“Whatever Lyra gave me earlier… I don’t really know…” Shane struggled to find the correct words. He was thinking too much and his subconscious kept telling him that he should be dead. “I haven’t felt pain in a while.”

Atlas hovered over him with a package of fresh bandages. “I’m going to have to talk to her about that. Do I have your permission to patch you up properly?”

With Shane’s consent, Atlas made quick work of discarding the old bandage and putting the new one on.

“You’re a doctor?”

“I was about to go into my first year of residency when the world decided to go to shit.” Atlas turned around and went over to a cabinet, rummaging through the contents. Shane heard pills in pharmacy bottles rattling about. “Are you allergic to any medicine or foods? Anything extra you’d like me to know?”

“I’m not allergic to anything, meds or food, and one of the dead bastards was on top of me for a bit.”

Atlas turned around sharply. “Like actually? Alright… I can work with that. Lyra was able to clean up the wound well so there shouldn’t be too much of a problem since you’re here and I have plenty of—”

The door of the RV slammed open, revealing Merle Dixon in all his redneck glory.

Shane felt tense at seeing the man. Merle Dixon had been left for dead on a roof in Atlanta. The inhabitants of the quarry, some more than others, had silently relished in the redneck’s absence. Even Daryl had resigned to his older brother’s fate after finding no sign for him on the roof except for the bloody handcuffs that remained attached to the pipe.

Shane could feel the stubbornness that was characteristic of his days as a deputy step in when Merle Dixon made eye contact with him. It was that stubbornness that had gotten him the cliche reputation of ‘ _bad cop_ ’ back in Kings County, but it was a gift when the perp was the first to break eye contact.

“Atlas, why don’t you go wait outside?” Merle’s voice was unwavering as they both held up the eye contact, neither willing to concede.

Atlas gave the two older men a confused look and barely didn’t knock down Merle as he hightailed it out of the RV, shouting at Shane he’d give him antibiotics later.

Merle moved away from the doorway and sat down on the couch in front of Shane. “Never thought I’d see the day you’d be bald, Walsh. You seem like the type to take care of your hair through anything that’s in your way.”

While Merle spoke, Shane instinctively glanced at the man’s wrists and wondered which one had left behind all the blood. “I was tired of washing walker blood and guts out of my hair.”

“Smart,” Merle snorted. A beat of silence passed. “You’re alone. Why’s that?”

Shane realized that Merle, with his brashness gone, was most likely sober. He didn’t have that slightly drugged out look in his eyes that he once did back at the quarry. Shane was dealing with a version of Merle he never met.

“A herd passed through the farm we were staying at. I got separated.”

Not a lie but not the truth either.

“Lyra did mention a herd. It’s why she and Sophia were stuck out in the woods overnight. ‘Suppose it worked out in the end because they found you.” Merle paused. His eyes narrowed and he leaned forwards in his seat. “I know you’re lying, Walsh. And I ain’t about to let a liar around my children but Lyra’s inclined to letting you stay. And if you’re going to stay, I want the truth.”

The door of the RV opened and Lyra stepped inside. Just like Merle had done earlier, Lyra lingered near the doorway but remained silent.

Merle nodded at her in acknowledgment before returning his attention to Shane. “If you ain’t gon’ say anything, I’m going to assume you’re not staying.”

Shane mulled it over. Merle and Lyra were the ones questioning him, so they were the leaders around here. The children looked healthier and cleaner than Sophia or Carl ever did at the quarry. Atlas was a doctor and promised antibiotics, which meant access to two things he didn’t have much of previously. However, he’d be around people… that wouldn’t be the wisest thing, especially with his fragile mind.

Being alone didn’t sound appealing in the end. Telling them the truth of what happened was a small price to pay. As long as Shane never saw Rick again, he’d be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update within 24 hours! I usually take longer to write, but I'm so excited that I couldn't help finishing and publishing this chapter.
> 
> My original plan for this story was to have Lyra and her group show up with Merle at the quarry. However, I wanted something more excited, which is how we ended up with this plot instead.
> 
> I have one more chapter with Shane's POV left before we start switching to the other characters. It's been fun writing for him, especially in those moments after the confrontation with Rick.
> 
> I was wondering if any of y'all have any pairings in mind? Especially rare pairings. I always get a kick out of those.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments. It's greatly appreciated.


	3. Confessions and the Final Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyra makes a confession about the group and Shane finalizes his decision.

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 **(** _shane walsh_ **)**

**chapter three — CONFESSIONS AND THE FINAL DECISION**

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**SEPTEMBER 23, 2010**

Shane spilled his guts to Merle and Lyra. They had stayed quiet and didn’t seem bothered by his admittance of wrongdoings.

Merle stood up after Shane finished and walked over to the doorway, where Lyra was still looming near and shrugged. “‘S fine by me if he stays.”

He exited out of the RV, resembling Atlas as he went. With Merle gone, Lyra turned to Shane with a raised eyebrow. “So… there’s a couple of things you must know about how we do things here—”

A knock on the RV roof interrupted Lyra, and Atlas came in shortly after.

He immediately apologized to her. “I just need to give him his antibiotics.”

“Please do.” Lyra stepped back to let Atlas through. She looked at Shane. “It can wait. I don’t want to anger the only doctor we have.”

Atlas snorted as he wrote on a notepad. “Nate’s a doctor.”

“Ph.D., not M.D.,” Lyra shot back with a serious tone, but the small grin on her face said otherwise. “And it’s in _economics_ out of all things.”

Atlas shot her a grin and then turned his attention to Shane. Atlas handed him a piece of paper from the notepad with scrawl all over it and a ziplock bag with pills inside. “I’m hitting you with all strong antibiotics because God knows what type of diseases the zombies have.”

Shane paused at hearing that word used. He had always called it something else. Corpses, the dead, walkers, geeks but never zombies. It had seemed childish to use that word. Zombies weren’t supposed to be real—they were meant for movies and video games.

“Zombies?” Shane uttered.

“Zombies are from Haitian folklore, a dead body that has been revived through a bunch of different things. Older stories say they use magic to do it.” Atlas paused and thought about something. “I suppose you could call them revenants. Those come from Irish Celtic and Norse folklore.”

“You know a lot of folklore, huh?”

“We all do,” Lyra responded. “Boredom hits hard, and all we have is books.”

Atlas nodded to confirm Lyra’s words. “So, back to the antibiotics. That paper I gave you has the names and what they help with. Come back tomorrow so I can check the wound. It’s a little inflamed and red, so let’s just keep an eye on it.”

“You’ve got it, doc,” Shane said, glancing down at the paper. It was a crude attempt at a prescription but Shane felt better seeing a messy ‘ _don’t overdose_ ’ in the right bottom corner with a smiley face.

“Okay, I’m gonna leave y’all to it,” Atlas muttered and went back outside, leaving Lyra and Shane in awkward silence.

He broke the silence quickly. “What is that you were going to tell me?”

She sighed and sat down on the couch as Merle had earlier. “I don’t think you’re going to take it well, so I’ll start with what’s easier: Merle’s my dad. He’s told me things about the quarry. That won't be a problem?”

Shane shook his head. Honestly, he was in no position to be judging. Not after everything he did.

“I have two more siblings. Atlas and Vega,” Lyra continued. “She was with the kids when we came in.”

“The one with chin-length hair reading a book?”

“That’s her,” Lyra confirmed. She stood up and motioned Shane to follow. “Come on. Let's get some fresh air.”

They made their way outside. The midday Georgia sun was beating down on the group, but none of them were bothered as they walked around with large smiles and chatting as they did chores. Lyra led him down to where the road ended and the woods started. It was isolated and quiet, away from prying eyes. Albeit, this group seemed to house members less interested in gossip than those at the quarry or farm.

“Our plan is to move up north,” Lyra said. “Collect supplies and survivors.”

“Why north?”

“Wyoming.” A brief pause. Lyra turned to him. “Have you ever seen a person frozen to death? I have, and if my theory is correct, then the walker shouldn’t be a bother when it can get as cold as three degrees in the winter.”

Shane couldn’t help the breathy laugh that escaped his mouth. He shook his head and asked, “Where’d y’all come from anyway? I’m pretty sure I saw Louisiana and Mississippi license plates.”

“I was in New Orleans with Burt and Cindi because of work.” Lyra spun around and went into the woods. Shane chased after her as she continued talking. “We went through southern Mississippi then into Alabama before ending up in Georgia, looking for my family and other survivors.”

Shane glanced over his shoulder. The view of the camp was obscured by the treeline. “Do you have a weapon on you?”

“Of course, I do.” Lyra stopped with a halt and whispered, “There you are, poxy bastard.”

A lone walker stood with its back towards them. It must have smelled them because it started to turn around slowly with a snarl. At some point, Lyra had pulled out an elegantly carved stick of pale wood and pointed it at the walker.

Shane frowned and took a step back, ready to intervene if needed because _what’s a stick gonna do?_

“ _Alarte Ascendare!_ ”

The walker flew high up into the air, growling and snarling as it went up. The walker fell with a sickening crunch, and its legs were broken underneath its mangled body. With another flourished wave and a mutter of ‘ _diffindo_ ’ from Lyra, the walker’s head was sliced in half.

Shane felt his heart pounding in his chest. His ears went hot as he stared at the scene in shock. Something about all this reminded him of Grandma Jean and her stories. They were bedtime stories, and Shane had written them off when he turned twelve, believing he was too old for being tucked in and told a story about magic and wand wavers.

Lyra spun around and looked at him with a questioning gaze. “The dead are walking around… why can’t magic be real?”

“Does everybody in the group know?”

Lyra nodded in confirmation.

Shane exhaled shakily and sat down with his back against a nearby tree.

“Just so you know… I can’t fix the whole the-dead-aren’t-staying-dead thing.” Lyra approached him and sat down on the ground near him. “Nor can I make food appear willy nilly. Magic isn’t a miracle worker.”

“Anybody in the group like you?”

“Most,” Lyra replied. “We try not to use our magic as much because we’re in the open most of the time. We don’t want to attract the wrong sort of people.”

If Shane was in Lyra’s position, he would do the same. At the quarry and farm, he’d been desperate to avoid contact with the worst of humanity who had survived.

“Will you still be staying?”

It was a valid question. She had just dumped a whole new situation into his lap. One that was perhaps even bigger than the walker one.

“It’s okay if you don’t. No one’s going to force you to.”

They fell into a comfortable silence. There were birds chirping in the distance and a breeze was making the leaves of the trees rustle, and Shane made his final decision.

“I’m staying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! I hope everyone is doing well.
> 
> Lyra told Shane about magic and showed him some too! And we're calling the walkers zombies now because this is my fic, and I can do what I want.
> 
> The next chapter will be in Lyra's POV and include the introduction of new characters (some who have already been mentioned in one way or another), questions will be answered, and an explanation of why Lyra didn't immediately go to Georgia to look for her family. All very exciting stuff.
> 
> I've been brainstorming nonstop about the endgame of this fic, and it's all coming together wonderfully.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Until next time...
> 
> <3


	4. Always Stay Vigilant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyra and Shane make it back to camp, and plans are made to go to Newnan, Georgia.

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 **(** _lyra dixon_ **)**

**chapter four — ALWAYS STAY VIGILANT**

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**SEPTEMBER 23, 2010**

The second she and Shane were back in camp, Atlas and Vega descended upon the former deputy like vultures. _Helpful vultures_.

Lyra made her way to the RV that served as the center of operations for their group. Upon entering, she saw Burt, Cindi, and Mallory hunched over a map of the United States while her dad held a map of Georgia.

“What’s up?” Lyra moved to stand next to her dad and observed all the maps.

The large map with the forty-eight states had various routes mapped out with different colored pencils. Cities, towns, and neighborhoods had been shaded off in the states they’d been in to indicate major loss of life, destruction, or too dangerous because of the herds of zombies. Louisiana had Baton Rouge, Lafayette, and New Orleans were significant. Mississippi only had Biloxi and Hattiesburg because they hadn’t ventured further into the state after Mallory’s insistence that the major cities were lost to them. Georgia had Atlanta listed as overrun and Columbus (and Fort Benning to an extension) as bombed to the ground.

“I had a dream,” Mallory replied. “We were near Newnan, between Highways 35 and 5… right around here.”

Mallory used her pointer finger to circle the area between said highways.

“Dad, what’s out there?”

“The Chattahoochee River and the state park, and south of both you’ve got West Georgia Correctional,” he replied.

“A prison?” Lyra looked at Burt and Cindi. “Y’all think it’s a good idea?”

“Our handy little psychic hasn’t failed us,” Cindi said bluntly and Mallory rolled her eyes in the background. “We found your dad, didn’t we?”

Burt cleared his throat, drawing the attention to him. “The book was updated last night. Florence and Hector were able to get all the kids from southern California up to Humboldt County. Something about all the hippies abandoning their farms.”

Dad laughed. “Well, ain't that a good idea? Plenty of illegal farms with weapons lying around and enough land for farming. The mountains are isolated enough from LA and all those big counties down near the border.”

“That’s exactly what they said. They’re planning to tackle Oregon and Washington next.” Burt sighed heavily. “Nothing from the group up in the Northeastern states.”

Lyra felt a dread pool in her stomach. It wouldn't be the first time that Burt reported that their fellow Aurors had fallen silent, but it didn’t change the fact that Lyra felt uneasy about it. This time it was Riley Fontaine and Jamie Emerson; they were one of the few surviving Aurors and had been the first to volunteer when news came from Ilvermorny that not all the children had come back from the spring holidays.

“Where were they the last time they reported in?” Lyra questioned.

“Vermont, near the border with Canada, on an abandoned dairy farm.” Burt straightened his back and took out one of two books that had been sent to them from Ilvermorny. This one was the one they used to communicate with the other groups led by former Aurors around the country. Burt read out loud from the book, “We’re in Vermont. North of a town called Holland with all the children we’ve been able to collect from Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and New York.”

“That was two weeks ago,” Cindi added.

“They’re fine. Probably too busy getting things together to go to the other states.” Lyra wasn’t sure if Mallory was sure of this or was trying to comfort her as they made eye contact. Mallory turned to the rest of their group. “So, are we gonna head up to Newnan or no?”

“Yeah, I’ll lead in the truck. I know the area.” Lyra’s dad folded the map. “We have plenty of daylight hours left to drive. We’ll set up camp and head out to scout tomorrow mornin’.”

“Sounds good to me,” Cindi started putting away the other things.

Soon, the large group was packing up things in the vehicles and piling inside. Vega and Sophia had practically dragged Shane into the RV, talking animatedly about Ilvermorny. Atlas had opted to drive the RV with all the medical supplies instead of being with them. Burt and Cindi were in one of the humvees. Mallory walked back in shortly after the trio did.

“Inez isn’t back yet,” Mallory pouted. “She went foraging this morning.”

“I’m sure Inez is fine.” Lyra patted her shoulder. “If she doesn’t show up in five minutes, we’ll send people out for her.”

“Don’t even think about it, Dixon.” Lyra glanced away from Mallory to see Inez had shown up just in time. She bounced into the RV, smiled, and said, “Worried about me?”

“I’m always worried.”

Inez snorted. Her eyes quickly fell to where Shane was sitting. “You’re new. I’m Inez Guerra.”

“Shane Walsh,” he replied.

“He’s from my group!” Sophia chirped before her attention was drawn to Vega who offered to teach her how to read tarot cards, leaving the adults alone since Mallory followed the two.

Shane looked at Lyra as she sat down with Inez. “Vega told me you’re a cop.”

“An Auror,” she confirmed. Lyra’s mind flashed to where her uniform was stashed away in the bedroom behind them. It was still dirty from all the shit that went down in New Orleans. Blood spatters from the zombies and her fallen coworkers. Lyra fought off the urge to shiver. “So, basically, yes.”

She felt Inez snake her arm around her shoulders, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“What exactly has Vega told you?” Lyra asked Shane.

“Gave me the rundown of how magic works, Ilvermorny, and the laws.”

“Not that the laws matter anymore in either society,” Inez laughed. “We haven’t heard anything from MACUSA since all this started. What did you do before all this?”

“I was a deputy in one of the counties near Atlanta,” Shane had his attention on Inez now. “You?”

“Made potions.” Inez turned to Lyra. “I found some chicken of the woods today. I think it’ll do well in some sort of stir fry.”

“Good,” replied Lyra and then informed Shane, “We’re headed to Newnan right now.

“There’s a prison near there. I remember taking a prisoner there once. Are you planning to scout the area?”

“That's the plan. Would you be willing to help?”

“Yeah, I’m down.”

“Good! Any helping hands are appreciated.” Lyra stood up carefully, not trying to fall as the RV started moving, and went towards the bedroom. “I’m going to change my clothes.”

Lyra quickly retreated to the RV’s bedroom. She felt gross after being in the same outfit for forty-eight hours. The weather the last couple of days had not done anybody any favors.

After closing the door, Lyra pulled out her duffle bag and started rummaging for the precious packet of baby wipes. Wiping off the old sweat and a quick spell would have to do until she could take an actual shower.

Lyra changed into an old beige blouse that was a size too large and light wash jeans that she had found back in Mississippi. She didn’t want to risk apparating into her apartment building in New York, not knowing how many zombies were trapped—zombies who were her coworkers and neighbors. Lyra pushed her duffle bag back under the bed and paused when she heard a garbage bag rustle.

“Ah, shit,” Lyra muttered, getting down on her knees and pulling out the garbage bag. Untying it, she was hit with the stale smell of her Auror uniform. A flash of gold caught Lyra’s eye and she moved the pants to see that her MACUSA and Auror lapel pins were still attached to her jacket.

Lyra traced the words on the triangular pin and whispered them to herself, “Always stay vigilant.”

Lyra took the pins off and used the jacket’s sleeve to wipe it gently as she fought off the tears that were forming in her eyes. With a triumphant grin, she pinned the pins to the lapel of her blouse. She had honestly forgotten that it was on her uniform.

A knock on the bedroom door startled Lyra. She tried to blink away the tears, but it only ended up with the tears falling onto her uniform and one running down her cheek. Hastily rubbing the stray tear off, Lyra called out, “Come in.”

The door opened, revealing that it was Inez. She closed the door behind her and sat down next to Lyra. “You still haven't washed it?”

Lyra shrugged.

“You should sleep,” Inez stated. “You’ve been looking after everyone but who looks after _you_?”

“Inez—”

“You know I’m right.” Inez crawled up to the bed and pulled Lyra along. “I won’t move until I’m satisfied that you got a good sleep. You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

Lyra grumbled because Inez had moved her until she was practically in her lap like a baby. Inez was wearing the damn perfume that never failed to make Lyra’s senses fuzzy and her stomach jump around like a kangaroo in Australia’s outback.

“I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

Lyra never heard Inez’s words because she was already fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our first chapter with Lyra's POV!
> 
> Lyra and Inez really do be like "pLaToNiC CudDlEiNG." Jeez... these idiots.
> 
> Last night while eating dinner, I had the thought of perhaps introducing characters from England into this story (such as Harry Potter, the Weasleys, etc). I'm only bringing this up because I couldn't think of any plausible way to bring them in, but I wanted to know if y'all had any ideas. All ideas (either about my question or just requests of general things to include) will be welcomed warmly.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. A Newfound Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A time skip to two days later. Vega and Sophia separate from the caravan (unbeknownst to the other members) to reunite with lost family members, only using Mallory's otherworldly abilities to guide them.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★⋆,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

 **(** _vega dixon_ **)**

**chapter five — A NEWFOUND COMPANION**

｡･:*:･ﾟ★⋆,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

**SEPTEMBER 25, 2010**

Vega was wide awake.

This was the first night she wasn’t tucked in next to Mallory, and she hadn’t been able to sleep. For weeks, Vega and Mallory shared the same sleeping space like two little girls back in a summer camp, legs tangled together, and mushed inside an old sleeping bag. In reality, they were two women—barely adults and out of Ilvermorny—who were seeking out each other's arms like it was a sanctuary. They depended on each other to ward off the nightmares that stemmed from their shared experiences from being alone days on end with only the dead for company before the group found them. Years ago, _even months ago_ , they had been on opposite sides of society.

Mallory had been a Thunderbird, well-spoken, an heiress from a Southern wizarding family with the etiquette and good looks to prove it, and had been the center of attention. Vega had been a Horned Serpent and stuck with the people with similar accents as her own, those who shared similar experiences of catching frogs and hunting down deer, and watched everything from the sidelines.

Vega and Mallory were vastly different, but somehow, they had come together in the bloody and gory circumstances of their new world.

“Vega, are you awake?”

Vega froze at hearing Mallory’s voice. Of course, it’d be her luck for Mallory to be awake at the same time as her.

Sitting up, Vega replied, “I was up all night. What’s up?”

Mallory scooted over to where Vega was. “Do you want to help me with something? It’s important.”

“Depends on what _something_ is.”

“What if something meant finding Sophia’s mom?”

Vega glanced at where Sophia was. The little blonde had her back facing them, sleeping soundly. “Does that include the rest of that group? My Uncle? Sophia said he was with them.”

Mallory hummed in confirmation.

Vega knew better than to doubt her. Mallory wasn’t the stereotypical seer (the dazed look, proclaiming random prophecies, and muttering about otherworldly things), but her dreams and instincts always led them onto the correct path. If Mallory was saying that they would find Sophia’s mother and her uncle, then it was the truth.

“I suppose you’re asking me to go with you because I have a wand and you don’t.”

“You know me too well.” Mallory stood up and continued, “We should get ready. I want to leave before sunrise, use the dark as a cover.”

Mallory wasn’t the only in their group to have lost their wand in the chaos of the dead rising against the living. It was unfathomable for the average witch and wizard, including Vega, to think about losing their wand. It was almost like an extended limb of their body that aided them in daily tasks. Yet, so many of those in their group were relearning how to wash clothes and dishes, mend clothes, and prepare food—things that were so simple to Vega that she could probably do it all with one hand and blindfolded.

“So, we’re sneaking off?” Vega stood up as well and glanced down to where the RV’s bedroom door was still closed. “They won’t wake up, right?”

“No,” Mallory answered. “Come on, we need to be quick.”

Vega and Mallory tried to be quiet as possible as they got ready to set out into the darkness. Vega put on beige cargo pants, a thin white long sleeve shirt, and a cargo vest in the same color as the pants. She stuffed her sock-clad feet into her trusty brown work boots, slipped on her wand holster, stored her wand inside, and knives were stored away in concealed places. _Just in case._

Vera paused getting ready when she saw that Mallory was packing up a backpack with food and water.

“I have a feeling they’ll welcome the food and water when we meet up with them,” Mallory explained when she felt Vega’s exquisite gaze.

“Have you been planning this long?”

“No.” Mallory closed the backpack and slung it onto her shoulder. “Done. Let’s go.”

Once they were done, they moved towards the RV’s door and carefully sneaked out. The sky was starting to lighten, but the darkness still prevailed over the land. Mallory took Vega’s hand and led her away from the campsite.

“Just what exactly is your plan?” Vega asked once they were far away from the campsite that no one would hear them talking.

“We’re going to find a car, hotwire it, and drive.” Mallory paused briefly. “You know how to drive, right?”

“By eleven, I was driving my uncle’s truck all over the country roads.” Vega laughed softly despite the pain that erupted in her chest at the memories of her uncle. Uncle Daryl was a life-size teddy bear despite his rough and brusque manner because of that he had always been one of Vega’s favorite family members.

They continued walking through the woods, hands intertwined as a comfortable silence overcame them, and the sun was finally peeking between the branches. Birds were chirping in the trees and squirrels were jumping from branch to branch. The noise was welcomed by Vega because it meant that there wasn’t a herd lurking in the woods.

The sudden noise of a twig breaking startled Vega. She pulled her clammy hand away from Mallory’s, wiped it down the front of her cargo pants, and grabbed the hunting knife on her hip. Vega readied herself to take care of the lone zombie, but then a small blonde popped up from the trees at her right. “Sophia?”

“I was wondering when you’d notice me.” Sophia walked confidently past Vega and joined Mallory. “Woke up just in time to overhear your conversation. Y’all really thought I was going to give up a chance to reunite with my momma?”

Vega couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her mouth. Sophia sounded eerily similar to her father and it was absolutely hilarious.

Mallory must have been thinking the same because she said with a teasing tone, “You’re spending too much with Merle.”

“Spending time with Vega and Lyra means I spend time with their dad.” Sophia rolled her eyes and looked exactly like the teenager she was budding into.

“Come on, girly. We need to get going.” Vega asked Mallory. “Still following your lead?”

Mallory nodded and started walking. “We’re going southbound. The plan is to get a car and start driving east.”

“Your spidey senses are tingling?”

Vega smiled at the way Sophia referred to Mallory’s seer abilities. Ever since Sophia became comfortable with the group, she hounded all the comics that the adults would bring back from their scavenging trips. Vega had never been sure if the comics were for Sophia’s own comfort or for the remainder of the little boy she was friends with. At least, now, Vega figured she was reading the comics.

“That’s the first time someone ever describes it like that,” Mallory smiled at Sophia, and with that, the conversation fell short as they continued hiking.

By the time they arrived at a neighborhood just outside of the park, the sun had fully risen over the horizon, casting a golden glow on the vehicles and houses ahead of them. Vega was sure that Brandi or Rebekah were up and about, waking up everyone for breakfast. It would only be a matter of time before the realization dawned that they were gone.

Vega approached an older model truck that was similar to Uncle Daryl’s. Glancing inside, she snorted at seeing keys hanging out in the cupholder. That was one good thing about sticking to rural areas. The people never bothered to lock their front doors or cars and kept the keys in obvious places.

Vega opened the door of the truck but paused when a loud squeal resonated somewhere behind her. Turning around, Vega only saw Sophia and Mallory fawning over a black furball in the arms of the younger girl.

“Is that a kneazle?” Vega questioned, stepping closer to the purring animal. She petted it softly, glad to see that magical animals had been able to survive. She wouldn’t be surprised if non-magical cats and bigger dogs had done so as well. Animals were resilient.

(Vega made a mental note about avoiding crups. Those damned magical dogs were hostile towards non-magicals and squibs, and the group had members who belonged in both categories.)

“It is,” Mallory replied. “Seems like it’s taken a liking to Sophia.”

Said girl giggled and clutched the kneazle closer to her chest.

Drawing her hand away, Vega smiled. “Let’s get our newfound furry friend a meal and start driving. I want my uncle back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday!
> 
> This update took me a little longer to put together because writer's block hit me just as I was writing the last paragraphs. I also got distracted making Pinterest boards and aesthetics for all the characters I have planned.
> 
> Additionally, I have a Tumblr blog now! I'll probably be posting a character guide for this story, the aforementioned aesthetics, and playlists I've been putting together. Plus, it'll be the easiest way to reach me for any questions y'all might have about this series because I'll see it almost immediately since it's on my phone.
> 
> The link to my Tumblr (remove the spaces): https:// absquatulatess-ao3. tumblr.com/
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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